


An eternal bee buzzes in my ear

by mozaikmage



Series: The Russian-American Diaspora AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, M/M, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozaikmage/pseuds/mozaikmage
Summary: AU where the russian characters are international students studying in NYC, and otabek the kazakh guy is the hot waiter at that one russian restaurant they go to every weekend, and anyway don't look at me





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction since 2011 so please bear with me  
> Assume all the Russian characters are speaking to each other in Russian unless stated otherwise  
> The restaurant is based on a real restaurant I've been to with my family a few times but I forgot the name of it and so I made that part up. The magic of fiction!  
> The title is from [this Russian song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCgK3HXOE2Y&list=RDqCgK3HXOE2Y#t=4) (skip to 0:23) I just translated it into English because I liked it and thought it sounded cute  
> Thanks to all my friends that looked this over for me before I published it!  
> Enjoy!

Studying abroad is strange and unfamiliar, but in this big university in an even bigger city, Yuri Plisetsky is surprised to make friends who understand what it’s like. 

Mila Babicheva is a junior linguistics major, from Moscow just like him, and she sees his ironic RUSSIA snapback from across the library the first week of the school year and decides to take him under her wing. She introduces him to her friends, Georgi who has an annoying girlfriend and Victor who has an even more annoying boyfriend. The four (or sometimes six) of them hang out sometimes, and though Yuri would never admit it, it was nice to be able to speak Russian around groups of people in a place where everyone was supposed to speak English. 

One fine Sunday morning Mila drags his ass into a subway train and tells him “let’s go get a taste of home.”

After what feels like hours in that cramped subway, they emerge in a Brooklyn neighborhood where every other sign is written in Russian and English. Yuri can hear familiar words being shouted across the streets and familiar brands in the windows of the grocery store, which they visit first.

Yuri pretends to be unimpressed, but he fills a plastic bag with pirozhki and grabs stacks of his favorite chocolate off the shelves. “They have the GOOD kind of zephir!” he exclaims, and Mila smirks at him. “What’d I tell you?” she said.

“Fine, baba, this is not as bad as I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”    
Yuri scowls and looks away, because he really didn’t have anything in mind when Mila picked him up at his dorm that morning.

They finish their shopping and Yuri is thrilled by the rare ability to chat with the clerks in Russian, instead of fumbling his way through an exchange in English. Then Mila says “Come on, I know this awesome restaurant for lunch. They do the best chebureki I’ve ever tasted. Also, cute waiter boys.”

Yuri notes her use of the word boys in particular and feels attacked, before he remembers that he's in America after all. The land of subpar pirozhki has one thing over his homeland--  the attitudes towards gay people. He couldn't even tell his parents what he was without getting kicked out of the house, but here in New York there's gatherings and parties and parades and clubs, and even an advocacy group just for Eastern-European LGBT expatriates.

When he came out to Mila she laughed and said “ Now I know who to set you up with!” 

It felt nice, telling someone.

Chebureki...The last time Yuri had the flaky meat pastry was on the way home from school, way back in May. It feels like a lifetime ago, now. His mouth is watering.

“Whatever,” he says instead.

The restaurant is called Kish-Mish, which is Russian for a variety of very small grapes. The food they serve is mostly Central Asian and traditional Russian fare. When the waiter comes over to take their order, Yuri is forced to admit that Mila was very right in her assessment of their appearance. 

His name is Otabek and when he asks Yuri what he wants Yuri suddenly forgets how to speak. Otabek is tall, buff, and disturbingly familiar...is he a part-time model or something?  Mila kicks him under the table and he snaps back to reality. “Pelmeni, cabbage salad, and Chebureki. Please,” he adds. It feels really nice to be able to order a meal in Russian again.

“And your phone number!” Mila calls out as he’s walking away. Otabek doesn’t turn around. Yuri smacks her on the head with his menu, and she giggles, traitorously. “What? I saw you looking at him. He’s cute! And around our age!”

“He’s probably straight and taken and married with seven children, or something like that.” Yuri slouches down in his seat and pulls his hoodie over his face. 

“Well if you keep dismissing every cute boy you see, someday it’ll actually be true.”

“Anyway, I don’t need to date some random waiter all the way across the city,” he replies, still hiding below the table.

Mila leans across the table and looks at him. “At least try being friends with him, Yurachka. Do you talk to anyone in your classes? Go to any events? Leave your dorm room when I’m not making you?”

Yuri sulks, his silence answering for him.

“There’s my point! You need more friends! And if your friends happen to be handsome young waiters then so much the better!”

“Baba,” he grumbles. Mila has a point. He’s in university to get an education, sure, but also to make friends, get connections that will hopefully help him get a job later. Unless he decides to move back to Russia, which looks less likely by the second. 

Otabek the Hot Waiter comes back with their starters. “So, are you a college student or do you work full-time? Were you born in America or did you move here? What’s your story?” Mila jumps in.

Otabek is clearly unprepared for the Babicheva Assault. “Um, I have other tables to wait right now,” he protests, but the restaurant’s mostly empty at this time of day and both Mila and Yuri raise their eyebrows, unimpressed with the flimsy excuse.

“Why do you want to talk to me so much?”

“She’s just a--” “YURI THINKS YOU’RE CUTE,” Mila interrupts, gleefully. 

“Jesus Christ woman, have you no sense of decency? Please excuse this tactless trash pile I happen to be sharing a table with right now.”

“Ouch, not even an acquaintance? You wound me, Yurachka. You hurt me so. So, Otabek, tell us about yourself!”

“This is so awkward and unnecessary and I hate you SO MUCH,” Yuri mutters, shoving his face into his jacket.

But somehow, wonder of all wonders, Otabek the Hot Waiter pulls up a chair and starts talking, his quiet, measured tone music to Yuri’s ears.

Yuri can feel his face flaming and he concentrates on his salad, stuffing as much of it into his mouth as possible to avoid having to actually talk.

He learns that Otabek is 19 now and grew up in Moscow, but moved to Brooklyn with his family when he was 12. He works part-time at the restaurant because his father is friends with the owner. He’s a finance major at City College.

“Moscow, huh? Where’d you go to school?”

“578. We moved the summer after fifth grade.”

Yuri looks up, because  _ no fucking way did that just happen.  _ “What? I went to 578 too! What class were you in?”

Otabek looks at him and they make eye contact for the first time and Yuri is sure he is totally doomed, right now, this is the end of days. “Class B.”

“Bullshit! I was in class B and I know I’d have-”   
Otabek’s eyes widen in recognition, and Yuri feels suddenly exposed. He  _ can’t  _ have been in the same class as someone this attractive, he would’ve remembered-- “Wait, you’re Yuri Plisetsky?” 

“Yeah.”

“I remember you! You probably don’t remember me because I never talked in school, but you were always so popular.”   
“Now I know you’re bullshitting me.” Yuri remembered elementary school as a haze of detentions and disappointing his grandpa with mediocre grades. He definitely didn’t have many friends, preferring to spend his time watching cartoons or playing with his cats. Otabek the Hot Waiter was full of shit.  _ Though he guessed your name before you told him, didn’t he? _

Mila laughs again at this point. “Yuri, popular? Please.”

“No, really. He was the kind of guy who’d pick up stray cats on the side of the road, and he was mean and loud but he’d always protect kids who were getting teased by other people. He didn’t have a lot of friends exactly, but everyone admired him for it.”

“Seriously?”

Otabek smiles, a real smile. “Totally.”   
He notices the empty plates in front of Yuri and Mila and jumps up, apologizing for getting sidetracked and bringing them their chebureki.

“I have successfully managed to block out all memories of school prior to like, ninth grade,” Yuri explains, mostly to himself. How the fuck did he manage to forget someone like Otabek Altin?

“Sure you did, kitty.”   
“When the fuck did I agree to nicknames, baba?” Not even his grandfather ever calls him anything but Yurachka.   
“When you decided baba was an acceptable alternative to Mila,” she retorts.

“Fine, okay.”

The dinner rush starts when they’re drinking their after-meal tea, but when Otabek comes back with the checks, Yuri notices a phone number scrawled on his copy of the receipt.

“No need to thank me,” Mila smirks.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yuri replies, as he put the number into his contacts and then texts “is this Otabek from the restaurant?” to confirm.

“Yes. Yuri?”   
“Yeah. Hi”

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Mila says, reading over his shoulder. 

“LET ME LIVE.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @cubistemoji and on twitter @mashazart!


End file.
